Pondering
by baby chaos
Summary: Harry talks to Bobby (my OC) about his fame and Hermione's state of being. PG13 for smoking, and brief mentions of drug and alcohol use. Please R&R!


**Title:** Pondering  
**Rating:** PG13 for smoking and mentions of drugs and alcohol  
**Beta:** None  
**Status:** One-Shot; Complete  
**Author's Notes:** This is a short bit that looks at my character, Bobby, from an outside perspective. It's a companion peice to my main fic, Sister Act, but you don't necesarily(sp?) need to read that to get this. If you want to get a better understanding of Bobby and how she came to be at Hogwarts, or are just looking for a good read (I think it's good, anyway) you should read it though. What I have so far is posted on my homepage, the link to which is in my bio. This just really didn't fit into my story anywhere, so I'm making it a separate peice. Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated, including constructive critiscm. I do not, how ever, want unbased flames. Instead of saying, 'This story sucks' or, 'You should never write or post again at ffnet', tell me why. IE, 'This story sucks _because_' or 'You should never write or post again at ffnet _because_'. Luv and hugs to all, and please R&R!!!

Bobby picked at the frayed edges of her plaid pants and put the cigarette to her lips, inhaling. As the wind whipped her hair around, she wondered what it would be like to jump off the wall she was perched on. To fly through the air with nothing under you, and what it would feel like on impact.

Would it hurt? Would you be able to feel your bones cracking and splintering beneath your skin? Or would you just black out? Most of all, would it be scary? She resisted the urge to jump, just to find out, and instead took another drag on her cigarette.

She blew out again, and sensed that someone was behind her.

"'Lo, Potter," she said, taking a guess.

"How'd you know it was me?" he asked, moving to stand next to her. She took another drag.

"Lucky guess." He nodded, and stared at the grounds for a few moments. There was a comfortable silence as they watched the Hufflepuff quidditch practice.

"What are you doing up here, anyway?" Harry asked, studying her.

"Thinking," she responded, stubbing her cigarette on the stone beside her and pulling out another one.

"About what?" She looked at him as she lit up and held the pack out.

"Smoke?" He shook his head. "That's cool." Another comfortable silence followed, and then, "Ever wonder what it would feel like to just jump off? No broom, no way to ensure a safe landing?" Harry shot her a sidelong look, as if to ask if she was crazy or just plain suicidal. She caught the look.

"Yes, I am, actually." He stared at her again, and she smiled slightly. "And no, I can't read minds. I just....I understand people, and human nature, better than others do, if that makes any sense." She let out a soft laugh and shook her head slightly, raising the cigarette to her lips again. He nodded.

"It does." He considered her for a moment. "Why do you smoke so much?" She cocked her head to the side.

"I guess.....at first it was because I had to be cool. I wasn't always this way, y'know. Believe it or not, I was once like my sister, although not as smart or bookworm-y. I really only had Lee. So I started smoking. And then your mind tricks you into thinking it feels good, and then you get addicted. But whatever. Lung cleaning spells, and similar stuff keeps me from getting sick, thankfully, and I mostly smoke in places like this where it won't bother anyone."

"You know there are rumors floating around school saying that you're a drunk and a druggie?" Harry asked, turning his attention back to the Quidditch field. Bobby snorted and considered him.

At length, she said, "Who said they were rumors?" Amusement was evident in her voice. "I mean, not so much addicted or anything, but I do my fair share of getting drunk and high."

"Why?" Harry asked. The more he knew about Bobby, the less he understood her.

"Why not?" she countered. "It's fun." She took a long drag on her cigarette and then blew the smoke in his face. He wrinkled his nose and waved the smoke away, but didn't cough. She grinned. "You've smoked before," she said. It wasn't a question.

"What? Me? No. No no no." Harry protested, much too quickly. Bobby raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, of course. How could I forget? Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, is perfect. He's a blushing virgin who's never smoked or drunk at all in his entire life, and probably never will." She mocked, knowing it would rile him up.

"I am not perfect! You know I--" He began to protest. She cut him off.

"For someone who complains so much about having to be perfect, you sure don't go out of your way to disabuse the public of that notion. In fact, from what I've seen, you try your best to hold that image. Now why is that? Why not just be you?" Harry looked like he was about to say something back, but whatever it was died on his lips.

"Besides. Perfection," she added, "Is highly overrated. Nobody likes a perfect person." Unable to come up with a good retort at that moment, Harry settled for pouting and glaring at the floor. She snorted when she saw this. "And my sister has yet to realize that. She really does work too hard to prove herself." Bobby sighed and stared out at the mountains.

"I thought she liked doing schoolwork." Harry said, slightly confused.

"She does. In bits. She likes reading and writing. It's just, I can tell she's really tired of it. It's like she's only keeping up the façade to prove that just because she's a muggleborn, it doesn't mean she's not smart or powerful. Which she is, but she doesn't need to prove herself. If she'd just stop trying so hard and have some fun, she might even have more friends."

"She's got friends!" Harry protested. Bobby fixed him with a look.

"Yes, I didn't say she didn't. I said _more _friends. She's got you and Weasley, yes, and some other Gryffindors, maybe one or two Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaw, but how many people in school actually know her? How many people know that she isn't just a bookworm? How many people knew about me?" She said pointedly.

"Well, I really don't think even the teachers knew." Harry skirted the rest of her questions.

"Of course they did! Dumbledore even told me—our names were down for Hogwarts by the time we were six. All the teachers knew about us—we were supposedly little geniuses. 'Mione was, anyway. I took more to sports and boys than books and dolls. But that's not the point.

"'Mione doesn't let people know her. She hides in her books, and I bet you and Ginny are the only two in school besides me who really understand her at all. Bobby paused for a few moments.

"Hey! We were talking about you always living up to people's expectations, not my sister! Why is it that guys always know how to change the subject so well?" She suddenly exclaimed, quite annoyed. Harry grinned lopsidedly, the smirk looking debauchedly innocent in a way only he could pull off.

"We have skills. Natural talent, I guess." He replied, amused. Bobby harrumphed and looked away.

"So, what say you be you, and not the Boy-Who-Lived, from now on, eh? The world doesn't need perfection, it needs a reality check." She said after a few moments of silence.

"I can try, but my clothes only fit perfection at the moment." Harry said wryly, grinning slightly. Bobby turned to him.

"Did I just hear grounds for a shopping trip? Well, what are we waiting for? Come on!" Harry laughed softly and followed the suddenly hyper girl. It was going to be an interesting year.

Finis 


End file.
